It's been three hours since Hobi's mixtape officially dropped and you're still wide awake, too busy trawling through twitter and tumblr to even consider trying to sleep. You'd known Hope World would be an instant hit - had told him that every second of every day since you'd heard the rough tracks - and now, as you watch the endless outpouring of love from his beloved ARMY roll in, you've finally been proven right. Your face is aching from smiling too hard and for too long, cheeks still damp from the tears that keep intermittently escaping from your eyes, the pride you feel overflowing as salty streams and a runny nose.
You never expected him to come home so soon - you'd thought he'd be out partying all night, celebrating with his brothers - but here he is, flinging open your apartment door with a flourish, and you're too excited to see him to be anywhere near bothered about the way the handle bangs against wall and chips the plaster.
You've never seen Jung Hoseok look so alive. He practically glows as he pauses there in the doorway, beaming a smile, his face flushed with unabashed joy and the run he's just taken up the stairs to reach you, and it's with a bounding heart that you fling yourself up off the couch and towards him.
Your bodies meet halfway, crashing together as Hobi surges forward too, taking you in his arms and lifting you, squeezing you, spinning you just like they do in the movies, and you're laughing - God, how you're both laughing - because now you know it's all been worth it. Every moment of self-doubt he'd had, every sleepless night, every argument because he'd been too stressed and you'd been too tired and 'you never have any time for me anymore!'
It's all paid off, and even when he puts you down your feet don't truly feel like they've hit the ground, and you're still laughing as he kisses you - too excited for it to be any more than a series of frantic, noisy pecks of his lips on yours, his nose bumping into yours once, twice, three, four times.
"I'm so proud of you, Hobi," you say, your voice tight with emotion as you take a hold of his face to force him to take a pause - to take just one breath - grabbing his cheeks and leaning away. "I'm so, so proud of you."
Even now, he's never one to graciously accept compliments. He hides himself away in the crook of your neck and tightens his arms around your waist as he nuzzles right in, making you laugh once again. You can feel the breadth of his smile against your skin, can feel the pounding his his heart through his chest into yours.
"I feel like I'm dreaming." His voice is small but you hear him well enough, agreeing with his sentiment with an affectionate hum that vibrates through the both of you. You thread your fingers through the short, choppy strands at the back of his hair as your love for him once again threatens to overflow, your throat burning as you try to hold back the tears.
You plant a kiss to the top of his head, squeezing him back, about to nestle your nose into his hair when he suddenly straightens up once more. He gazes down at you with sparkling eyes that are wet with tears to match your own, taking your face in his hands as you did earlier before leaning in to capture you in a kiss that's long and deep and full of love.
The strands of your hearts reach out and entangle much like your tongues, lips moving in perfect sync, and the soft little moan that you make when he nips your bottom lip abruptly turns into a shriek when he unexpectedly picks you up to carry you around his waist.
"Hobi," you giggle against his mouth when his hands squeeze your behind in either palm, stumbling the both of you towards the bedroom, "What're you doing?"
"Celebrating."
